A Long Weekend
by RainThestral93
Summary: Takes place after Stefan has gone back to Human Blood and has gone off with Klaus. Elena has to face Damon as she spends a week in his company at the boarding house. Will Elena and Damon realise that they have something that's worth fighting for? What happens if Klaus gets bored of his new toy, Stefan? Can the pair stage a rescue to help get Stefan back, or is he too far gone?
1. Chapter One

**Author's Note: **It's been a while since I've written any FanFiction but I've decided to get back into it. I'm starting by re-vamping my existing Fics; some with minor adjustments in terms of formatting etc. but others, I may tweak the plot a little so that I feel inspired again. I'm sorry it's been so long – Beth

* * *

**Elena's POV**

I sat on the corner of Stefan's bed, clutching his pillow to my chest. I breathed in deeply, and the scent of him filled my nostrils. I started sobbing, my body shaking as I thought about how I was probably never going to see him again. I let the tears stream down my face in a seemingly never ending cascade, until I could feel the puffy skin beneath my eyes begin to sting. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, only achieving in smudging my mascara even more.

What if Katherine was right - he'd turned back to human blood – just to get the cure for Damon? I remembered back to when he had lost control after drinking my blood... he had become a monster. Savage. Out of control. That wasn't the Stefan I knew, and I was worried about what Klaus would do to him. Sobs wracked my body once more, and I didn't hear as Damon entered the room – I only noticed when he put his arm around me cautiously and stroked my shoulder. His caress was unexpected, yet soothing, and I relaxed into him, allowing my grief to consume me.

I thought back to that moment, just yesterday, of Damon lying in his grand four poster bed, face coated with sweat and grimacing and writhing in agony. He had been so weak; so vulnerable, and all I had wanted to do was hold him like a baby. I remembered the turmoil of emotions that had swirled through my head. I picked out the most prominent one. Love. I cared about Damon, a lot more than I had realised before... there was no use denying it. Once more, Katherine's words, "It's OK to love both of them... I did," rang in my head, causing me to sob all the more. I couldn't hurt Stefan like this, when he wasn't here, even if I had kissed Damon last night. I reassured myself that it had be a friendly kiss, at most, a parting kiss between friends, even. But I knew deep down that my feelings for Damon were greater than I cared to think about at this moment in time, what with everything that was going on...

I had to leave. I turned my head to look at Damon, whose usually scorning eyes matched his constant smirk, but instead he regarded me with a look that was injected with concern and worry. We didn't speak much, but I told him I needed some space. For a moment, a look of disappointment crossed his face, but nearly instantaneously his usual smirk returned.

"You'll be back soon, Elena... you know you can't resist me," he winked seductively at me, and I hiccupped a nervous laugh in retort. He didn't know how much truth that last statement held – did he?

"Oh really," I replied, as I slipped on my jacket and picked up my car keys, "So is that why I'm going home? To get away from you? Because it's so hard being in your presence 24/7; as I just want to rip your clothes off constantly?" I laughed.

Damon tried to look serious, but all he achieved was a slightly constipated look, which cracked me up all the more.

"Why of course, Miss Gilbert. I'm irresistible – you know that!"

He leaned close to me as he spoke, his face inches from mine, and for one horrible moment I thought he was going to kiss me... but he didn't – he pulled away at the last minute, just as his breath tickled my lips and sent a shiver through my body. Now it was his turn to laugh, at my reaction of him being at such close proximity to me.

"Told you," he snickered. I shot him an evil look in return, as I ducked down into the driver's seat of the Mini, and ignited the engine.

All the way home, I had to focus hard on the road to stop my thoughts from wandering to Stefan. I wondered what he was doing now... how many people he'd killed. I didn't know what to think, but ever since last night with my sudden realisation about how I felt about Damon, I was starting to feel less and less sure about my undying love for Stefan. The more I thought about it, the more I began to compare our relationship to that between me and Jeremy. It was more sibling-like, companionable love. It wasn't passionate, burning love. The way I felt when I was around Damon. No, stop it Elena, I told myself. I was only trying to convince myself I loved Damon because he was here, and Stefan wasn't. That was it, nothing more.

There was no way I could have feelings for that smug, leather clad Salvatore. Or was there? There was something pushing at the back of my mind... like there was something I should remember, but couldn't. I was confused. I hadn't been compelled, as far as I knew, so there shouldn't be any reason for me to forget something. Should there? Frustrated, I blamed my lack of recollection skills on being tired, as I ran up the front porch and slipped my key inside the lock. I froze as I heard the unmistakable bubbly laugh of Aunt Jenna from inside the house... she wasn't alone. She sounded drunk, her high pitched voice resounding from the living room, as I swung the front door inwards.

I peered cautiously into the living room – and I laughed at the comical sight that I saw before me. Jenna and several other women of a similar age to my aunt were sprawled across the floor clutching glasses of wine and cigarettes. I frowned... Jenna hadn't smoked as far as I knew, before. I shrugged it off, as she rose to greet me, tottering slightly, in her intoxicated state.

"Elena! Hi chick!" She hiccupped before continuing... "This is Sancha, Millie and Abigail... and that's ... erm" She looked confused as she struggled to remember the redhead woman's name. She slapped her forehead "That's Rosemary! They're my college friends... and we're having a reunion!" I stood still, finding the state which my Aunt was in slightly amusing.

"Hi guys..." I waved at the ladies in the room, who all waved back cheerfully before turning their attention back to the Sex and the City box set which was playing on the big widescreen TV.

Jenna smiled at me, but then a look of concern flicked across her face. I asked her what was wrong and she replied "Crap! I totally forgot... I thought you were at Stefan's all this weekend? Shit. I said the girls could have your room... Jeremy's already given up his – he's at Bonnie's house..."

I got it. My presence wasn't really appreciated, so I quickly made my excuses – telling Jenna I only came back for some clothes, and then I was going back out. Jenna looked relieved. I smiled back at my tipsy aunt, and made my way up the stairs; before sinking to sit down on the top step.

I had to get out of here – being in a house full of giggly women really wasn't going to do anything for my current state of mind – but where would I go? Bonnie was occupied... with my brother. I smiled. The two of them were perfect for one another, so their relationship didn't bother me, even if it _did_ mean I spent less time with the two of them! Caroline and her mum had gone to New York for an impromptu shopping trip, and there was no way in hell I would be welcome at Matt's house. He was still angry and confused about the whole Caroline being a vampire thing, so I figured it would be best to leave him alone. I sighed. That left one place, the very place I had come home to get away from.

I picked up my cellphone, and Damon answered on the first ring.

"Helloooo," his voice was slurred. I sighed. I'd barely left the house an hour ago, and he'd already picked up the whisky. That was just **so** typically Damon! "What can I do for you, Miss Gilbert?"

I quickly explained the situation to him, and he agreed to let me stay at the boarding house for the weekend. There was still something pushing at the back of my mind, but I tried to ignore it. Before I hung up the phone, I put on my serious voice.

"Oh and Damon?" He murmured something that sounded like a yes, on the other end of the line. "No funny business, OK?" He chuckled deeply.

"Don't flatter yourself, Elena. Stefan maybe gone, but that doesn't mean I'm going to jump his girlfriend's bones at the first opportunity I get!"

"Damon." My voice was filled with menace and threat, but I think he got the message because he cleared his throat hurriedly.

"Fine. No funny business. I'll pick you up in half an hour – there's no point in you bringing your car."

* * *

I pushed the pickup time to an hour later, because I needed to have a shower and I didn't want to rush – and made my way into my room. Picking up my travel bag, I shoved my diary, slippers and a few outfits into the bag. I blushed as I riffled through my own underwear drawer, as I thought about the sexiest garments I owned. Elena! I mentally slapped myself. Who cared what underwear I wore? There was no way anyone would see me in it – _especially _not Damon! I settled for a black lace bra and matching pants all the same, and shoved them to the bottom of my bag, as if ashamed of the racy garments.

Under the cascading water of the shower, I rinsed my long hair out and sang along to the melodic tunes of Eva Cassidy... I even belted out a few verses of Taylor Swift before cringing in embarrassment at the fact I knew the words! Half an hour later, with freshly washed poker-straight hair, I slipped on a pair of black Levi jeans – they were my favourites, the fabric was acid washed and went brilliantly with a simple white shirt and pendant necklace. I was just applying a coating of lip balm in the mirror, when a voice behind me caused me to whirl around in shock... Damon. Of course.

"Damon! Why can't you come in the front door like any normal person?" He smirked his trademark smirk, his eyes lighting up. Yeah. He was back to himself. Closing the distance between us, he hooked his fingers in my jean loops.

The lack of space between us made me sharply intake my breath and I forgot to breathe out. "Breathe, Elena. I know I'm hot and you can't resist me, but really... most girls at least remember to breathe in my presence! And besides, I'm not "any normal person" – you know that!"

He had a point, and as I exhaled, he chuckled. "You're so cocky Damon... seriously. The only reason I didn't breathe was because you scared me!"

He looked hurt "Oh. So not because I'm irresistibly good looking, then?" He let go of my jeans, and took a step back. I smiled.

"Well... now you mention it. You're not bad on the eyes, but you knew that... you just like hearing it from other people! But no, you scare me Damon. I don't know which side I'm going to get – the sarcastic-on-his-period Damon, or the vulnerable you."

He snorted. "Me? Vulnerable!" I gave him a look and he fell silent... I realised that we were both thinking back to when he had confessed he liked me the other night. That was the most vulnerable I had ever seen the elder of the two Salvatore brothers... and I never wanted to see him like that again. Because that had been the Damon who was prepared to give up. Everything he had confessed, as he lay dying, was fresh in my mind... but I couldn't help thinking I had heard it all before...

"I'm sorry about the other night, Elena." He looked genuinely troubled. "We can forget what happened... if you want." I presumed he was alluding to when I had kissed him. I shook my head

"No Damon. I don't think we should forget it." As I looked into those iridescent blue eyes, something at the back of my head snapped, and a memory came hurtling forward...

_"I have to say something." Damon confessed._

_I stared at him suspiciously. "Why do you have to say it without me wearing my necklace?"_

_"Because what I'm about to say is probably going to be the most selfish thing I have ever said in my life." Damon looked deep into my eyes, and I should have been uncomfortable, but I held his gaze, testing him._

_"Damon don't go there." I warned, as I saw where this was going._

_"I just have to say it once." Damon took a few steps towards me, causing my heart to speed up, pounding in my chest like a drum. "I just need for you to hear it." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I love you Elena. And because I love you I can't be selfish with you." His eyes brimmed with incredible sadness. "That's why you can't know this. I don't deserve you. But my brother does." He slowly leaned in and kissed my forehead, lingering there for a while before pulling away. "God I wish you didn't have to forget this." Damon reached up to my cheek, stroking it softly. "But you do." _

_A single tear rolled down his face as his pupils contracted and focused their gaze on mine, urging me to forget. And then he left._

I stood there, in my room, facing this very man who had broken his promise never to compel me – and with the knowledge of his admission to me, I felt like exploding. My emotions were a tangled mess – I didn't know how to feel. On one hand, I felt pity, knowing that Damon had kept this to himself all this time, out of wanting to do the best for me... and on the other hand, I was angry. Angry that he'd abused my trust, and compelled me to forget. I clenched my fists at my sides, and Damon must have noticed my change in temperament because he took a step back, shocked.

"What is it, Elena?" His voice was urgent, but at the same time I could detect the underlying notes of concern which he disguised oh-so-well. My eyes welled up with tears, and I sank onto my bed, pushing my travel bag aside. Damon sat next to me on the bed, taking my hand in his, and gently tracing patterns with his thumb on my palm.

"You lied to me." My voice came a little harsher than I had intended, and I saw Damon's taken aback look from the corner of my eye, as a lone tear streaked down my face.

"What? What did I do Elena? Tell me?" Damon's tone was pressing, and he squeezed my hand gently, wanting me to enlighten him.

"You compelled me." A look of confusion flitted across his face, and then his face creased with horror...

"You... remember?..." His tone was inquisitive, this time. I nodded, the tears rolling freely down my cheeks, this time.

He retracted his hand and sat there with his head in his hands for what seemed like ages – I looked over at him and his hands were shaking. I pushed a lock of raven black hair out of his eyes and was surprised to see a tear rolling down his cheek. This time it was my turn to be comforting – I flung both arms around him, and buried my face in his neck.

He tensed at my touch, but then cautiously moved his hands to be around my waist. "Sorry," he murmured, and I could sense the pain in his voice.

Uncomfortable at how close we were, even though I had initiated the embrace, I pulled away. "It's OK." My tone was snappy. I was still annoyed that he'd compelled me, not so much at the admission of his feelings for me, but I needed to get out of this house. Jenna's laughter was really starting to annoy me. "Let's go to your place." He nodded in agreement, and we silently made out way downstairs, Damon slinging my bag under one arm.

Jenna shouted something that sounded like a farewell, just as I was locking the door behind us, and I waved goodbye through the front window.

* * *

We made the journey to the house in silence, Damon's car handling the winds and twists in the road with precision – I barely noticed when he pulled up in front of the house that I'd come to think of as a second home. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth when Damon, clearly caught up in thought, tripped over a stone on the path up to the front door. The contents of my bag, which I'd forgotten to zip, sprawled across the path, and Damon looked so funny with his butt stuck in the air like that, that I could no longer suppress my giggles! Damon jumped to his feet immediately, brushing his little fall off as if nothing had ever happened – but then his eyes fell on one of the articles from my bag, at his feet. His eyes lit up, and my face filled full of horror as I realise that none other than my black lace bra and thong were splayed on the path in full view of Damon.

Damon wolf whistled, and before I could stop him, he'd picked my underwear up, turning it over in his hands... his trademark smirk was plastered all over his face – I felt my face flush crimson with embarrassment.

"Give it BACK Damon!" I screeched, charging at him, slamming the car door behind me.

"Or what?" He taunted, "I'm going to have some fun with this, Miss Gilbert... who knew you had such _sexy _underwear!" My face, right now, I was pretty sure was the colour of a tomato. It was my fault for even packing the lingerie in the first place – after all, it was only because of Damon I **had **packed it!

He raced in through the open door of the Salvatore Mansion, and I followed, my feeble human speed no match for his vampire agility. He danced in front of me, taunting me with the offensive lace garments. I jutted my bottom lip out in a pout, and he smirked.

"Someone isn't happy with me waving their underwear around, are they?" I shot him a spiteful look, deciding to give up and wait until he got bored before getting the articles of clothing back off him. I made my way into the living room and poured myself a glass of what looked like vodka. I spat it out. Yuck. Whatever that was, it wasn't Vodka. Slouching on the couch, I picked up the book nearest to me, and leafed through it. Some dull historical novel, how interesting. However, I kept my focus on leafing through the musty yellowed pages, rather than the image of the older Salvatore brother.

Damon was leant against the door frame, my bra slung over his shoulder and thong in his teeth. I shuddered. That man really was disgusting, sometimes. When I finally looked up to meet his gaze, he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Hey sweetie... why don't we go up to my room and you can model these for me?" He laughed and I shot him a look that spat pure hatred. He was acting like a total jerk, as if he was trying to dismiss his admissions about how he felt about me that had been unearthed only half an hour before.

"Or you could just wear them down here..." he trailed off, and before I knew it, he was perched above me, his muscular arms raising him off my form on the sofa below, his face inches from mine. I shot him a warning look, trying to turn my attention back to my book. I was doing a pretty decent job of trying to concentrate, that was, until he wordlessly began trailing a finger up my leg. My skin burned where he had touched me, and I shivered with pleasure. The smirk - that I had come to know so well lately - lit his face up, as he felt my reaction to his touch. He stopped before he got too close to the inside of my thighs, and I couldn't help being a little disappointed... the tease!

If that was how we were going to play it... I used the only friend I had in this instance – the element of surprise – and flipped Damon over from on top of me, so I was hovering inches from his form. His mouth formed a little 'o' of surprise before the ever-present smirk returned... and as I began to trail my hand up his leg, nearing ever closer to his manhood, his face turned to a look of sheer confusion. Oh yes, I thought, two can play at this game!

I stopped a few centimetres from his crotch, as I felt him tense beneath me, flipped myself off the sofa, and slumped in the nearby armchair with that drivel of a novel – my face a look of sheer calm, as I pretended I hadn't been anywhere near Damon in all his sexiness, moments earlier...

Wait. Did I just call Damon sexy? What was wrong with me? Well... there was no denying it – the guy was hot, whether I liked it or not, and didn't he know it... but for me to admit it, even within the confinement of my own head, was really something new. I sneaked a peak from under the book to where Damon was lying on the sofa, expecting to see him there, lying in shock at the previous moment's events, but to my surprise he wasn't there!

I was about to turn around and scan the room for Damon, as he must have moved using his vampire stealth to sneak away from his position on the sofa, but a hand clamped itself over my face, suppressing the scream I had been about to emit, and completely shutting off my vision. The other hand, with all the ease of a vampire, snaked around my waist and slung me over Damon's shoulder.

I giggled and shouted "Damon! Put me down!" But the hand in front of my mouth muffled the noise and no such coherent sentence came out.

Damon chuckled, in his deep sexy voice, and simply said "No can do, sweetie, no one messes with Damon Salvatore and gets away with it!"

I giggled inwardly to myself at my own devious plan minutes before, and then it struck me. There it was. Again. I'd described Mr Damon Salvatore as sexy! I was beginning to question my own strength – would I really be able to survive a weekend with him without breaking Stefan's trust? I certainly hoped so... as Damon continued to take me wherever he was going, I chuckled inwardly to myself...


	2. Chapter Two

**Author's Note: **It's been a while since I've written any FanFiction but I've decided to get back into it. I'm starting by re-vamping my existing Fics; some with minor adjustments in terms of formatting etc. but others, I may tweak the plot a little so that I feel inspired again. I'm sorry it's been so long – Beth

* * *

**Damon's POV**

I chuckled at how comfortable Elena seemed to be around me... here I was, with her slung over my shoulder practically blind and speechless with no idea of where we were going, or what I was going to do, and she was giggling. Elena, the girl who's made it pretty clear up until now that "It will always be Stefan" is over my shoulder, and laughing. The world does some strange things, sometimes...

I still was in shock from when she'd teased me – I would expect me to tease Elena with a trick like the hand on leg thing, but I would never have imagined Miss Gilbert would reciprocate the act! Never in a million years... I was so close to just flipping her over, there and then, with her hand so close to my crotch, and kissing her until she screamed my name – but she'd pulled away, left me hanging and wanting more. There was no way in hell Elena Gilbert was going to play me, Damon Salvatore, for a fool. Which is why, at this precise moment in time, I had Elena slung over my shoulder like a rag doll, until I decided what to do with her.

I was just wandering aimlessly around the house, in and out of the assortment of rooms, all the while formulating a plan to get back at Miss Gilbert here... It needed to be good, and I needed to get her back really well – after all I **am** Damon Salvatore, and I don't do things by half!

I felt Elena shift on my shoulder and she murmured something into my hand. I moved my hand a bit so she could talk and before I knew it, her teeth had clamped down on my hand – hard, can I just say! I yelped in surprised, and withdrew my hand. Taking advantage of my reaction to her little nip, she jumped out of my grip and pegged it down one of the many corridors in the house... well, if _that_ was how she wanted to play it...

I could have chased after her using my Vampire speed, but that wouldn't have been much fun – it'd have been over in seconds – so instead I let her run as fast as she could from room to room, trying to evade me, whilst I jogged comfortably behind her.

At one point I lost her, and I cocked my ears using my excellent hearing to locate Elena's heavy breathing and thumping heart... she was in my room, I could hear, and I strolled casually along the corridor thinking to myself, 2-1 to Elena, at this moment in time, but I was going to change that... I'd get her back for earlier, and her little escape plan just then. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when I entered my room.

Elena Gilbert, sprawled on my bed in a _very _seductive manner, I must say, with no top on. Repeat: Elena Gilbert, my brother's girlfriend; topless. In. My. Bed. I took in the curves of her lean, tanned body, and the white lace bra with a bow in the middle, and a growl must have slipped my lips because she grinned... I strode forward to my bed confidently, taking my time to even out each step.

"Sooo..." I started, still ogling at the half naked body in my bed, "To what do I owe this pleasure, Miss Gilbert?..." I trailed off, as quick as a flash she pulled her top back over her head and jumped off the springy mattress. She looked at me calmly, as if she hadn't been half naked on my bed moments before, and flashed me a mischievous smile.

"And what pleasure would that be, Mr Salvatore?" she simpered, her voice sickly sweet with victory. Damn her. 3-1 to Elena. This score needed evening out. Quickly. Before Elena could blink, I was by her side, my lips mere millimetres from hers.

"This pleasure," I murmured, as I brought my lips crashing down on hers. I had expected her to stand stock still, if not retaliate and push me away, but instead she responded with much enthusiasm, her lips merging with mine, and allowing my tongue to slip into her mouth massaging gentle circles around hers. Fireworks burst and my head throbbed as her hands wound themself into my hair, tugging gently at my head, drawing it closer to hers... and then as quickly as it had started, the kiss was over, as Elena pushed me down onto my own bed. Damn this girl was good... she leant over me seductively, a smile playing her lips. Leaning down to kiss me again, I closed my eyes, ready for the burning to start once again. A second passed. No kiss. I opened my eyes to see Elena smirking at the doorway, leaning on the wooden frame, chuckling at the look of annoyance that crossed my face.

"Damn you Elena Gilbert! 4-1 to you!" Elena smirked triumphantly, and I reluctantly sat up, drawing myself up onto the array of pillows that scattered the bed.

"I think, Mr Salvatore, you'll find its 5-1." She chuckled, as I sat looking confused. She'd definitely only got one over me four times... hadn't she? What did she mean five? I watched as she turned to walk down the hall way, and she raised a hand, waving her own black lace bra and thong in the air. Ah. Now I got it. That cheeky little minx had got me – again!

She turned to face me, a grin stretched across her face like the Cheshire Cat, and as she did, I heard a rumble. She looked down at her stomach, and already, an idea was formulating in my mind.

"Hungry?" I asked, "I could fix you something, if you'd like?" She nodded her approval...

"I didn't eat lunch – I was preoccupied," a look of something I couldn't quite work out flitted across her face, "So, Chef Salvatore, what's cooking?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Miss Gilbert... secret family recipe, you see. For all I know, you could be a spy, trying to break the Salvatore reputation!" She gave me a look that said "You idiot" and I couldn't help but grin along with her. As we made our way down to the kitchen in companionable silence, I began to think. I don't know what it is about her, but Elena Gilbert lights up my world.


	3. Chapter Three

**Author's Note: **It's been a while since I've written any FanFiction but I've decided to get back into it. I'm starting by re-vamping my existing Fics; some with minor adjustments in terms of formatting etc. but others, I may tweak the plot a little so that I feel inspired again. I'm sorry it's been so long – Beth

* * *

**Elena's POV**

As I followed Damon Salvatore down the stairs, I couldn't help but think about what I'd just said – I'd told him I didn't eat lunch because I was preoccupied, which was true. I was too busy worrying about Stefan. Stefan, the man who I'd all but forgotten about during my little competition with Damon! I shrugged it off. I was having fun with Damon, and what's more, I was beating him! My brain was already formulating little ways in which I could get back at him, and I was pretty impressed with my own cunning, even if I do say so myself!

As I followed Damon down the mahogany staircase, all I could focus on was that bum, clad in black denim, and the torso that was swathed in an equally tight black cotton top, that clung to his muscles... I was so wrapped up in staring at Damon's perfect body that I completely missed the bottom step, and landed in a sprawled heap at the foot of the staircase... or I would have done, had Damon not caught me. He picked me up in both arms and carried me like Princes' carry Damsels in Disney films, into the kitchen, where he seated me on the granite worktop. He gingerly put a hand on each of my knees, parting them softly and sliding his body in the space between them and the countertop. I gasped, at the sudden closeness of our two bodies, and I was certainly aware of the presence of his hand on my legs.

"You alright?" he asked me, his voice injected with concern. I mumbled a yes, averting my eyes from his gaze. He chuckled, and with two hands, turned my head to face his. Before I could react, once again his lips came crashing down on mine, sending shivers down my back and sparks dancing through my veins. All thoughts of Stefan were completely gone from my mind. There was only one person filling my head right now, and I wanted more of him. Caught up in the moment I pulled him closer to me, and I felt him slide his hand under the bottom of my top. My legs began to quiver with excitement as I felt him pressing his lean, muscular body against mine... and then he was gone.

He was leant against the sink, casually, as if he'd been there for an age, but his hair was ruffled and his bottom lip swollen, from where I must have bitten him during the kiss. I grinned sheepishly. "5-2 to me, Mr Salvatore."

He chuckled, "You're so not winning this one, Miss Gilbert." I stuck my tongue out at him in a totally immature way. To my surprise, he did it back, and before we knew it, we were having a competition of who could pull the silliest face. Damon won, with no shadow of a doubt – I was laughing so much I fell off my position on the worktop. Once we'd stopped laughing, and Damon had picked me up off the floor and sat me on a bar stool he held three fingers up to indicate he'd got one over me again... but I was still winning, so I just beamed at him triumphantly.

"So," I started, "What are you making?"

"You like Mexican food?" He asked. It was more of a statement than a question, but I started to reply all the same, before he interjected.

"Tacos?" A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he leaned casually on the work surface.

"Tacos?" I echoed. This seemed to amuse him, and his smirk broadened.

"Tomatoes? Lettuce? Cheese? Sound familiar?"

"I know what a taco is!" I exclaimed exasperatedly, and Damon leant over and ruffled my hair – but I slapped his hand away and smoothed down my hair. He could be so annoying, sometimes!

He went to the sink and ran the tap, scrubbing soap halfway up his arms. Then he went to the pantry, followed by a browse of the fridge, bringing out ingredients here and there – salsa, cheese, lettuce, a tomato. Then he dug in the kitchen drawers until he found a knife and a cutting board.

"I haven't made tacos in ages – you'll have to excuse me if I'm a bit rusty – I may need your help." He winked at me, and I just glared at him from where I was sat on the countertop. I was still annoyed at him for making me forget Stefan so easily.

He wiped the scowl off my face pretty quickly, as he whipped out one of the poufy white Chef hats, and perched it lopsided on his head – he looked hilarious!

"You're not seriously going to wear that?" I asked him, laughter erupting at the comical sight of Damon in that hat.

"Of course, Miss Gilbert, of course I am. A chef can't cook without his hat!" He looked at me, pretending to take offense and I fought back a serious case of the giggles.

Damon picked up a knife, spinning it so the blade faced away from me, and he held it out. I took it from him, confused. "Come here," he said, "I'll teach you how to make tacos."

I didn't move. There was a little mischievous sparkle in his eyes that made me think he was up to something... made me feel like I should be frightened of him... which I was. But that fright was equal to part allure, and I was beginning to think I was afraid of how I felt for Damon, rather than Damon himself. There was something extremely unsettling about being near to him, and at the same time, something extremely comforting. What with Stefan gone, I guess I just missed the attention.

"How about a... deal" He leant down, his face close to mind, shadowed, and looked up at me through his lashes. The effect was an impression of trustworthiness, and I had to say, Damon did look rather sweet pulling that face. "Help me make tacos, and I'll add another point to your score." As of now, I was winning, but Damon was steadily catching up with me. I wasn't taking any chances.

Without a word, I jumped off the counter and moved beside him. He slid the cutting board in front of me.

"First," he said, coming behind me and placing his hands on the counter, just outside of mine, "choose your tomato." He dipped his head so his mouth was millimetres from my ear. His breath was warm and minty, tickling my skin and making a shiver run through me.

"Good. Now pick up the knife."

"Does the chef always stand this close?" I asked, not sure if I liked or feared the flutter that his close proximity caused inside me. Stefan, once again, escaped my mind.

"When he's revealing culinary secrets, yes, yes he does." Damon smirked again, his breath warm against my neck. "Now hold the knife like you mean it," he commanded.

"I am!" I exclaimed.

"Good." Stepping back, he gave me a thorough twice-over, seemingly scrutinizing any imperfections – his eyes shifted up and down. For one split second I thought I saw a flicker of an approving smile, but I brushed that thought aside. "Cooking isn't taught," Damon continued, "It's inherent. Either you've got it, or you don't. Like chemistry. D'you think you're ready for chemistry?" His voice was husky and he was stood immediately behind me once again. For a moment, I forgot to breathe.

"You tell me... am I ready for chemistry?" I retorted, pressing the knife down through the tomato, splitting it in two, each half rocking gently on the cutting board. As I did so, I realised that this whole cooking thing had been an excuse for Damon to get to me. Well, he suddenly had, as I remembered to breathe again.

Damon made a deep chuckling sound and said something which sounded something like "5-4 to you, Miss Gilbert". I turned around, angered.

"You said you'd give me an extra point if I helped you cook!" Damon grinned, and ruffled my hair.

"Yes, I did, and I'll stay true to my word, but we haven't finished cooking yet! I never said anything about me not gaining points in the meantime, though."

I slapped him with the tea towel I was wiping my hands on and he immediately feigned being hurt – but we both knew that he hadn't even felt it.

Reaching into the cupboard, Damon pulled out all the ingredients for tortillas and began making the dough. I leant over to where he was working and scooped up a handful of flour. Before he could react, I had flung the flour at his face and it had coated him head to toe. His mouth was open in a little 'o' of surprise, and a giggle escaped my lips.

"Oh so you think this is funny, do you, Elena?" Damon looked annoyed, but as I looked closer, past his flour covered face, I could see a playful smirk growing. "I'll have you know that this is an Armani shirt!"

"Very much so," I laughed, as I dodged a handful of flour Damon threw my way. "I'm sure you have plenty more shirts," I said as I ducked under his arm, but as I did so, he grabbed my arms, and twisting them behind my back, he pushed my face down into the flour. I choked as I inhaled a mouthful of the white stuff from laughing so hard, and a plan began to form in my mind.

I spun myself out of Damon's grip, and turned so that I was facing him, who was pressed up against the counter. A look of surprise flitted across his face, as he stood there; not really knowing what had hit him. I let my eyes wander slowly up his muscular torso – which you could still see the sculpted lines underneath the cloth of his shirt – until my eyes rested on his lips. I let my arms snake round the back of him, fumbling for the box of eggs behind him, and I went up on my tiptoes to kiss him.

He leant down to meet my kiss curiously, no doubt wondering what the hell I was playing at. After all, Stefan may have been abducted by Klaus, but we were still together, right? I shrugged it off, as the kiss got more intense, Damon biting my bottom lip playfully. My hands found what I was looking for – and I took an egg in each hand, as I brought them up to tangle with Damon's mussed up hair. Smack! I cracked the eggs on his head, and Damon broke the kiss. He stood there, bemused, slimy egg yolk sliding down his face. His chef hat had fallen off sometime in our little chase, and the gunk had spiked his hair up. I bent over, doubled with laughter at the comical sight of the usual pristine Damon covered in the contents of his kitchen.

Damon stood there for a moment, still looking bemused. "And there I was, Elena, thinking you really wanted to kiss me. Well, I guess that makes it 6-4 to you." He seemed dejected, and as I looked up, I caught a sliver of hurt in his eyes. Had I really upset him, by having ulterior motives behind kissing him?

Quick as a flash, Damon picked up the remaining eggs and broke them on my head, and I laughed as the yolk trickled down my hair, plastering it to my face. "Not so pretty now, are we, Miss Gilbert?" Damon chuckled, as he rubbed flour into the gunk on my face. He garnished his creation with basil leaves, which I picked out of my hair in hysterics.

"You're not exactly looking the best yourself, Mr Salva-" I was cut off, as Damon shoved his lips onto mine. I stood there, momentarily stunned, before I began to return the kiss. It was different before, not as forceful, more quizzical. It was almost as if Damon was testing me, asking for permission, even. He broke the kiss, and murmured, still against my lips "6-5 to you." He picked up one of the halves of tomato, and shoved it into my mouth.

I spluttered in surprise, spitting the tomato on the floor. "6 all, I think. Looks like you're going to have to try a bit harder, from now on, Miss Gilbert!" I punched Damon playfully, but before I knew it, I was upside down over his shoulders.

"Let me go!" I shouted, banging my fists on his back.

"I'm not sure that would be a good idea, Elena. If you want me to put you down, you'll have to make me."

I muttered in protest, before reaching down to that arse that I'd been admiring earlier and playfully squeezed it. I think Damon nearly dropped me in shock.

"Did you just squeeze my ass?" Damon said, putting me down and setting me on my feet.

"Not at all, Mr Salvatore, you must be imagining things!" I winked at him, and Damon rolled his eyes. We both turned to survey the mess we'd made in the kitchen – it really was quite a sight. The black granite work surface was _covered_ in flour, and there was egg yolk sliding down the cupboard doors. The tomato lay squished on the floor, from where I'd spat it out. We both burst into peals of uncontrollable laughter, and once it had subsided, Damon turned to me.

"I don't think there's any food _left_ in the kitchen that isn't contributing to the new decor – so d'you think we should order out?" I nodded in agreement, still amused at the sight of the kitchen. "Chinese or Indian," Damon inquired. I weighed the two against each other...

"Chinese, please." Damon smiled in agreement with my choice. I'd never really been a fan of Indian food – too spicy for my taste.

"Chinese it is, then, Miss Gilbert." Damon winked, and my heart fluttered. I think he heard the palpitation coming from my chest because he smirked that trademark smirk as he picked up the menu...

Once Damon and I had had a minor argument about which dishes to order – pointless, anyway, seeing as Damon would probably just drink blood – I left him lying on the sofa downstairs whilst I went to have a shower; I didn't like feeling dirty and my face and clothes were covered in food.

* * *

Under the cascade of hot water, I let my mind wander to the events of the evening so far... I was definitely confused about how I felt about Damon. We had something, the pair of us, something special. It was as if when we kissed we became one person – each of us in sync with the other's motion. When we kissed. SHIT! I dropped the bar of soap I was holding. We had kissed. I, Elena Gilbert, had kissed Damon Salvatore. Multiple times, may I add... what was wrong with me? I knew Stefan was gone for the foreseeable future with Klaus, but nevertheless that doesn't excuse my actions. I had technically cheated on Stefan, with his brother Damon... as I ran the razor down my leg; I winced in pain as I accidentally cut my leg from pushing the blade against my skin too hard. As I watched the crimson trickle down the plughole, I let all thoughts of Stefan disappear down the plug as well. There was no point worrying – Stefan had made his own mind up and gone with Klaus – and Damon and I weren't powerful enough to get him back, so I might as well enjoy myself while I could...

Climbing out the shower, I wrapped a fluffy white towel round me as I blew dry my hair. It lay in its natural waves about my shoulders, and I fluffed it at the roots. Sexy and sophisticated, I smirked. Subconsciously, I thought of Damon. Looking around the bathroom for my clothes, I groaned – I'd left my luggage downstairs and the only things I had with me were my dirty food-covered clothes, which I wasn't in any hurry to put back on. I had no choice but to call Damon. I only raised my voice a little as I said his name because I knew his hearing would enable him to hear me – and moments later he knocked on the bathroom door. After I fumbled with the lock, I swung the door inwards, only to jump back in surprise at the sight of Damon leaning on the doorframe at such close proximity. His ever-present smirk once again adorned his face and I shoved a lock of hair behind an ear.

"And what does the beautiful Miss Gilbert require now," Damon teased, and from the corner of my eye I could see he was holding some of my clothes behind his back.

"Damon, you know all too well what I called you for," I retorted, trying not to let my amusement flit across my face.

"Of course I do... you want to have wild hot sex with me, which is why you're wearing nothing but a towel..." His voice trailed off, as his eyes scanned me up and down. I felt a blush come to my cheeks as I imagined Damon and me on his bed, like we were earlier...

"No... Of course I didn't want that," a little too hurriedly, as my voice cracked, making Damon smirk again.

"You sure about that, sweetie," Damon teased, "It's just you don't seem all too sure that isn't what you want." He winked suggestively and I tried to push past him, flustered.

"Damon," I started, but I stopped because he hadn't moved from his position in the door frame, and as I had tried to push past him, he'd shifted so that he was blocking my escape. "I –" I was cut off, as once again Damon brought his lips down to mine.

The pressure of his lips on mine was soft, gentle even, and I let myself fall into the blissful mental state as he bit playfully on my bottom lip. I think I let out a moan, at one point, and I felt Damon's lips twitch in a smirk before they resumed tangling with mine as I cringed in embarrassment. I kept my hand firmly on my towel – the last thing I needed now was for it to slip down. As the kiss deepened, I wound my free hand into Damon's hair, and his hand slipped down to my waist. He held me gingerly, as if I was a fragile doll that he was afraid of breaking, and I leant into his lean torso, caught up in the kiss. Almost as quickly as it had started, the kiss was over, and Damon pulled away looking flustered. "7-6 to you Mr Salvatore," I grinned.

Damon smirked, running his hand through his mussed-up hair in a very enticing way. "About time, Miss Gilbert," as he stuck his tongue out at me, "But I think we need to stop scoring points for kissing, or else I'm afraid I'm just going to have to keep kissing you all evening."

I shrugged, playfully, "Well... I could think of worse people to spend the evening kissing..." I trailed off as I watched Damon tense, before relaxing. I knew, then, that both our minds had turned to Stefan.

"So..." Damon started, awkwardly. "Who's a better kisser?"

I think a look of panic may have crossed my face. He wasn't making me choose, was he? The pair of them were completely different – Stefan was sweet and endearing whereas Damon and I were feisty, passionate. Then it hit me. What I had had with Stefan had never been more than a sweet school girl crush... but what I had with Damon? That was real, passionate and full of pure emotion.

I was in love with Damon Salvatore.

I stood there, in stunned silence, contemplating the revelation. When I thought about it, I'd always had a soft spot for Stefan's older brother – and I think it'd been growing inside me ever since I had found out that he loved me too. But I was in a state of uttermost confusion – torn between my loyalty to Stefan, and my sudden desire to kiss Damon there and then. A quizzical look from Damon, as he cleared his throat bringing me back down to earth.

"Well I'm clearly not that good if you need to think about it... I think we might just need to practice a bit more..." I shot him a warning look, grabbing my clothes that he was holding behind his back, and pushed past him.

"I'm going to get changed," I snapped, ignoring the hurt look on his face, as I went down the corridor. "Call me when the Chinese gets here."

It was weird being in the room without Stefan himself being there – it felt cold, empty even. I felt like I was intruding, like I didn't belong. Because I didn't belong; not anymore. I'd been feeling hollow, ever since Stefan had gone with Klaus, as if someone had torn a chunk from me. Gradually, bit by bit, that hole had begun to get filled after I'd spent time with Damon. As I fastened my bra, I chuckled at the thought of Damon prancing around the house waving my underwear back and forth... it was impossible to stay mad at him for long. Leaving my hair in natural waves, I applied a slick of mascara and brown eyeliner, to match my brown denim skinnies, and grey sweater that I'd borrowed off Matt but never given back.

Lying back on Stefan's bed, the pillows still smelling slightly of him, I let my thoughts wander to Damon once again. I thought back to him, as he lay dying, drenched in sweat. How he'd been so frail. Damon Salvatore, one of the strongest characters I knew, and he had been on the urge of giving up. He'd been so vulnerable, and I realised now that in my heart that's when I knew Damon. The real Damon, not the bitter, sarcastic persona that he projected onto everyone he met... the vulnerable, loving Damon. The Damon he had been before Stefan had removed his humanity.

The doorbell interrupted me from my reverie, and I made a quick decision on the spur of the moment to let the evening's events roll... I'd continue winding Damon up, and in turn see where it led. One thing was for sure... I wasn't sure I could trust myself around him, though. Sometimes, I thought to myself, when Damon Salvatore's around, you let temptation get the better of you...

When I got downstairs, I could see Damon slouched in the doorway, holding the Chinese in one hand, and holding himself upright with the other. I could see the delivery girl stood in front of him, her eyes wide and flirty – and I couldn't help but feel insanely jealous. I cleared my throat, more to alert the girl to my presence than anything, as I knew Damon would've already heard me as I came downstairs. She jumped back in shock, and Damon sighed.

"What did you do that for, Elena?" he rolled his eyes, as he slammed the door in the girl's face. "I nearly had her, as well!" He took one look at me stood there, and cleared the distance between us in less than a second. He pushed a loose curl of hair behind my ear, and tipped my face up to look him in the eyes. He didn't kiss me, like I had originally thought he would, instead, he gazed into my eyes for several minutes. We stood there, frozen in that position, in silence. But not the awkward kind of silence. More like the companionable, we don't need to say anything to each other silence. It was nice.

I broke the silence, "The Chinese will be getting cold..." Damon laughed, as he removed his hand from my chin.

"Well I guess we can't have that, can we. Although, you scared my dinner away, so I'm going to have to think of a suitable punishment for you..."

We ate in the living room for a change – which was nice, because prissy Stefan never let me eat in there in case I spilt something on the furniture. That was one of the things about Damon, because whilst he treated me like Princess, he didn't treat me like a baby – unlike his brother.

* * *

The pair of us sat on the sofa, plates on our laps as we chatted, but we soon forgot about the rest of the food. Damon rammed his foot into mine, and before we knew it, we were having a footsie match. Damon grabbed my leg, and turned me over. He knelt over me, and shiver ran down my spine as I felt his warm breath on the back of my neck. "So... Elena? You never answered the question. Who's a better kisser, me or Stefan?" I groaned, in exasperation, except Damon must have thought it was a pleasured sigh because he chuckled.

"I'm that good, eh?" He flipped me over again, so that he was straddling me. The close proximity between us was making me nervous.

"I don't want to answer the question," I retorted. Damon pouted, and it was my turn to laugh, as his scrunched up face and dishevelled hair looked utterly adorable.

"Fine then, Damon suggested, "How about we play Truth or Dare?" I contemplated the idea for a moment, before shrugging. What harm could it do?

I agreed... "Fine, but you HAVE to answer everything I ask you, or else it isn't fair. Do we have a deal?"

Damon nodded, before grinning wickedly. "You have no idea what you just agreed to, Miss Gilbert..."

I swallowed nervously. I really didn't.

"OK," I started, my voice faltering a little. Whether it was with nerves, or eager anticipation, I wasn't quite sure. "Who goes first?"

Damon grinned his trademark smirk, before getting off me and sitting down facing me. "Ladies first, I insist. Truth or Dare, Elena?" He followed the question with a wink, which made me giggle. Here I was facing a dilemma, because I knew that Damon would ask me to evaluate his and Stefan's kissing ability if I said truth – which I really didn't want to do, as the last thing I needed was to proclaim my undying love for Damon Salvatore. But then again, if I picked dare, I had no idea what Mr Salvatore would no doubt conjure up for me. I took the plunge.

"Dare," I said, and it was my turn to smirk as a look of surprise flitted across Damon's face.

"Very well then, Miss Gilbert... your top, if you please. Take it off. And you can leave it off, for the duration of the game, as well..." I sat there, gaping at his crudeness for a moment, before taking my top off in one fluid moment. I didn't see what the big deal was – I'd taken it off voluntarily earlier, when we'd still been playing the points game. Actually, speaking of the points game, I must think of a way to get back at him... I snapped out of it, looking at Damon, whose eyes were lingering on my chest. I tutted. He was such a typical testosterone-infused specimen.

"Your turn, Damon. Truth or Dare." This would be interesting, as I doubted he'd pick truth, but I'd have to make up some pretty good dares to keep him interested...

He surprised me, once again, "Truth."

I don't know what made me say it, but it came out my mouth before I could stop it. "Why do you like to kill people?" Shit. Way to kill the mood, Elena. Despite the quizzical look Damon shot me, he answered regardless.

"I don't really know, to be honest... I guess it just makes me feel powerful, in control. A man's greatest desire is to be dominant, and when you're a vampire, that feeling is intensified. I guess I just like to be in the position of choosing whether someone lives or dies, kind of like playing god." He began to hum that Paramore song, Playing God, whilst jumping up on the couch and jamming to air guitar. His mop of brown hair was all array, and his eyes sparkled. I giggled at his childish behaviour, before he jumped back down on the couch next to me. He pulled my feel onto his lap, and I felt strangely comfortable. Thoughts of Stefan, which I once again pushed aside. I couldn't think about that. Not now, not whilst Damon and I were having fun...

"Your turn," Damon prompted me, a devilish grin growing on his face. In the yellowy glow of the lampshade, his face looked very Edward Cullen-ish, sparkling, almost.

"Dare," I said again. I still wasn't sure I was ready to answer some of the questions I knew Damon would ask me, if I had said Truth.

"Hmm... let me think..." Damon grinned wickedly, "OK, Elena, we're going to go for a little drive." He jumped off the couch, "Oh, and you can put your shirt back on now, I've seen quite enough... for now, at least." I tinged pink, as I realised I had been sat in my bra, assets on display to the world. I got up, curiously, and followed him as he slung a leather jacket on, and left via the front door.

"Where are you taking me," I enquired, curious, but at the same time, a little nervous. Who knew what Damon had in mind?

"Not to worry, Elena darling... this will be fun." He turned the car stereo on, and Taylor Swift blasted out the speakers. Damon put on a ridiculously falsetto voice and sang along – rather tunefully, I must add. I couldn't help but giggle as Damon began to pretend he was in a music video, gazing out of the window, his eyes barely on the road ahead, still singing along. "You see, Elena, I think I know why women find me so irresistible. Yourself included." He shot a wink in my direction, and I felt my cheeks flush. Damn, I needed to stop doing that!

"And why would that be," I asked, still laughing at his exaggerated but uncannily realistic impression of the singer.

"My ability to tolerate this goddamn trash you girls find soul satisfying or whatever... I mean, "You were Romeo and you were throwing pebbles... Daddy said stay away from Juliet..." Really? Do you people seriously listen to that?" Damon looked outraged, and he slammed his hand down on the steering wheel to emphasise his point.

"I'm a more Indie band girl myself," I said... "Taylor Swift doesn't really do it for me... I prefer Vampire Weekend any day," I laughed at the irony behind my statement, and Damon chuckled too.

He turned to me, and after looking at me for a moment, announced so matter-of-factly, "I like you, Elena."

I turned and looked out of the car window.

Little did he know, I liked him too. In fact, the more time I spent with him, the more I was sure about it. The only thing I hadn't the foggiest of ideas was where on earth Damon was taking me...

"So where are you taking me," I asked Damon, who was drumming his hands on the steering wheel in an incredibly irritating fashion. He smirked at me.

"You asked for a dare, Miss Gilbert, and I've got one hell of a dare for you!" I swallowed nervously. What the hell was Damon planning?

"Tell me pleeeeaaaaasssseeee!" I whined, tugging on Damon's arm. He jerked the steering wheel and we swerved off the side of the road. Into a barbed wire fence. Great. I rolled my eyes. "Well this is just fantastic," I groaned, as I felt the air seep out of one of the tyres.

"It was your fault," Damon pointed out, "You were the one who grabbed my arm!"

"You were the one who wouldn't tell me where we were going!"

"You were the one who asked for the dare!" Our voices were getting increasingly louder.

"You were the one who suggested we play stupid Truth or Dare in the first place!" I slammed my hand on the Dashboard to emphasise my point, but jarred my wrist. I shook it, trying to ease off the pain, and Damon paused before he spoke.

"Kiss me."

"What?" I spluttered, a look of total shock and confusion on my face. Here we were, in some random ditch, with a flat tyre, and Damon was asking me to kiss him!

"You heard me," Damon grinned, "Kiss me. That's your dare."

"WHAT? You drag me all the way into some freaking ditch and then ask me to kiss you?"

"Technically it was you that dragged us into the ditch, but yes, that's your dare." I huffed, loudly, before folding my arms over my chest and sitting back in my chair. It wasn't that I didn't WANT to kiss him – because I did. I just knew I shouldn't. I mean, what about Stefan? We were still together, weren't we? I couldn't just keep kissing Damon and acting like everything was fine and dandy.

"It was soooo not my fault! Besides, I'm not kissing you."

Damon smirked. "I think you'll find it was, Elena, and well if you won't, I'm sure I can think of a decent forfeit, for you..." He trailed off, but I got the message.

"Fine," I exclaimed exasperatedly. I leant over to Damon, where he was still sat in the driver's seat, and pressed my lips lightly to his. I felt a spark of electricity jump between the pair of us, but I didn't pull away. At first the kiss was slow, but then Damon responded, his lips tangling with mine. I lost control of my senses, but my hand snaked up and my fingers wound themselves into Damon's tousled dark locks. His hand slip to my waist, and it was amazing – more heated than anything I'd ever experiences with Stefan. Whenever I had kissed Damon's brother, Stefan, it had been full of love and care. But with Damon, the kiss seared with heat, with passion. I understood. I didn't need anyone to love me – as I knew Stefan and Damon already did. I needed someone to need me, want me, even. And Damon Salvatore needed me to fix him.

I broke the kiss, and as I pulled away my breathing was heavy, as was Damon's. We sat side by side, neither one of us saying anything, until Damon broke the silence.

"Well, Elena, one thing's for sure. I've never been kissed quite like that before." I smirked at him – no idea how I'd mustered it – because inside my guts were a turmoil of emotions.

"Damon," I started, avoiding the subject. "What do you think is going to happen with Stefan?" Damon looked confused at the change of subject for a minute, but then he sighed, resting one elbow on the steering wheel and leaning his head on it.

"Honestly? I have no idea. I don't know what Klaus wants with him, but we can assume that whatever it is isn't for the good of anyone. He might come back, who knows. The thing is, with someone as powerful as Klaus, we can't just blaze in and rescue him. We have to wait for him to come to us – and see if Klaus hasn't managed to destroy every shred of humanity left inside my –" I interjected.

"Not what is happening with Klaus and Stefan, that's not what I meant." I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "I meant Stefan and me. Do you think he'll ever be the same again? What are we, is he still my boyfriend?" Damon sighed. It was pretty clear he didn't want to be having this conversation.

"I think," he started, "that whatever happens, Stefan will always be Stefan. Even if Klaus turns him into a bloodthirsty lunatic. But as for you and Stefan? Hmm. Why don't you call him, again, and try to talk to him? If you can reach him, then maybe you could sort things out. If he doesn't pick up, I think it's safe to presume that you two are done." Damon smiled reassuringly, and handed me his cell, as I'd left mine back at the house. I took it, and nodded. I think that was the longest amount of time that Damon had ever been serious for, and he chuckled when I told him that.

As I dialled Stefan's number, he reached over and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. As he did so, I melted a little inside. My heartbeat accelerated as each ring echoed throughout my eardrums. When the call finally got through to Voicemail, I hung up.

For a moment or two, I stared into space. A tear rolled down my cheek, silently, as I gazed out into the gloomy blackness. We were really done, Stefan and I. We were finished, and never again would I feel his supportive arm around my shoulder, or hear his deep voice whispering sweet nothings into my ear during a biology lesson. We were done, we'd had our time. But Klaus had taken him from me. Damon sat there, watching as tears rolled down my cheeks.

"You alright?" He inquired, sensitively. "If it's any consolation, I've always known my brother's a douche. Looks like someone needs cheering up, though. Wait here a second?" I nodded, as he handed me a box of tissues. He jumped out the car and using his vampire speed, whizzed around to the boot, took out the spare tyre, and it was fixed in a matter of seconds. I grinned, as Damon slid back in his seat, a smudge of engine oil on his nose. I leant over to wipe it off and Damon snapped his teeth at my finger playfully. I chuckled.

I was going to be alright... how did I know? Simple. I had Damon Salvatore to cheer me up...


	4. Chapter Four

**A/N: **Just in the process of re-vamping (if you'll pardon the pun) this Fic. Enjoy - Beth

* * *

**Damon Salvatore POV**

I glanced worriedly over at Elena in the passenger seat. She'd been quiet and reserved ever since she had made that call to Stefan earlier – and I couldn't help feeling insanely guilty. Hang on a minute, I thought to myself. Guilty? Since when did Damon Salvatore feel guilty?

But I did.

I couldn't help but feel I'd been taking advantage of Elena – the fragile state she'd been in since she found out that Stefan had left with Klaus – I'd been kissing her at every opportunity and generally doing my best to woo the woman. I sighed, exasperated. Because as much as I tried to blame myself, I couldn't deny the fact that there was something between Miss Gilbert and myself. I knew I was in love with her – remembering back to that night when I had broken my promise and compelled her to forget my admission – but I couldn't help thinking that of late her feelings for me had changed. I just had to find a non-invasive way of getting those feelings out of her.

A gentle snore and the murmur that people only make when they're deep in slumber aroused me from my thoughts – and looking at Elena with her head lolling back, mouth open slightly and her arms wrapped around herself protectively, made me smile. She was beautiful in every right – a lot like Katherine, in that respect – but the beauty that Elena held was far more pure; more innocent.

Now it was up to me to corrupt that innocence, after all, that was what Damon Salvatore did best.

I turned the stereo off in fear of waking her, and drove along the winding country road at a relatively slow pace, musing in my earlier thoughts. I made a decision, that moment, as I drove past the boarding house and found myself experiencing a strange sense of déjà vu from our last road trip to Atlanta.

I smiled as I remembered back to Elena, back when she'd had her first major row with Stefan, how outraged she'd been when she realised I had 'kidnapped' her for a little road trip. I chuckled to myself as I remembered back to her getting drunk – downing shot after shot and yet still remaining on her two feet. Then I rembered how she'd saved my life, and running my hand through my hair, I sighed.

Because Elena Gilbert, the girl sat in the car beside me, had saved my life more times than I cared to admit. She was the life of me, but I swore someday she'd be the death of me as well.

My mind wandered to thoughts of my brother, again. Was what I was doing, taking Elena on an impromptu road trip, mocking my brother? Was I doing this for all the right reasons? What happened when Klaus – what happened IF Klaus, I amended – let Stefan go? Would Elena run back into Stefan's open arms, glazing over all the people Klaus has probably made him kill? So many questions, I thought.

If I wasn't careful, I'd end up like my brother; writing my inner thoughts in a leather-bound journal each day. I rolled my eyes – there was no way I'd ever become that soppy and romantic, unlike Stefan.

Stefan, I sighed to myself. Why is it that everything comes down to blood?

* * *

**Elena's POV**

Waking up after a short nap, I massaged my neck – I'd slept on it funny and now I was paying the price. Damon looked over at me with a concerned expression and I managed a feeble smile in return.

"Where are we?" I asked, noting that our surroundings were not the usual town of Mystic Falls. I felt a strange sense of déjà vu as I remembered Damon and mine's little road trip ... well, he called it a road trip, I called it kidnap! That had been fun, I grinned to myself, remembering how I'd been able to let go and have fun. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts; I nearly missed Damon's answer to my question.

"We're near Georgia," Damon said, and I was surprised. We'd been travelling at human speed then – instead of Damon's usually incredibly reckless driving. "Sweet dreams, Elena dearest?" Damon winked at me, and I blushed.

I'd had a very _interesting _dream – and that was putting it lightly! My hand flew up to my neck and I breathed a sigh of relief as I realised that it was still intact on my neck.

Hang on, I thought, if my necklace was still there – chock full of vervain so no vampire would be able to compel me – that meant that my dream was all my doing.

_ I clambered out of a car, in a clearing, and stood in front of a very impressive wooden chalet – stacks of wood piled by the side of the house, the fresh aroma of pine enveloping me as I walked towards the house._

I turned and smiled at the dark haired man beside me, and he leant over and took my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine, and putting an even bigger grin on my face. Dropping my suitcase on the pebbled path at my feet, I turned to him and flung my arms around him, smothering him with affection.

He returned the gesture with a long and passionate kiss that made my heart flutter– like a bird wanting to break free of its cage – and I felt myself go weak at my knees, but before I knew it, I was being swept off my feet, and held gently in the broad and muscled arms of my lover.

Birds chirped in the trees overhead, and the sun peeked through the branched canopy over my head, spattering our faces with its light. The warmth was part due to the sun, and part due to the man who had me enveloped in his arms at that precise moment in time. We finally broke the kiss, out of my human need to breathe, and I inhaled sharply – crisp mountain air filling my lungs.

Just as quickly as I had resurfaced, I was dragged back down again, his soft lips pressuring mine, a spark of electricity surging between our bodies, drawing me closer to him. 

_ His lips, tangling with mine caressed mine with such tenderness but with a hint of the underlying urges, and it was tantalising, leaving me begging for more. A hand snaked up and wound itself in his hair of its own accord, and my other hand had roamed his chest._

I snapped out of my reverie, as the stereo jolted on as we went over a particularly rocky bit of road. Damon leant over to turn it up, and the words from Plain White T's 'Fireworks' filled the car, and I leant back in my seat and sang along:

**_ I know you know it can't get much better, Fireworks flying whenever we're together, I know you know that I know you love me..._**

Damon joined in on the chorus, and our voices were surprisingly melodic together, and for the first time in a long time, when we'd finished, a huge Cheshire cat grin was splayed across my face. Then the significance of the words hit me. The words "**_Fireworks flying whenever we're together, I know you know that I know you love me" _**summed up mine and Damon's relationship. I knew that he loved me, but was he aware that I reciprocated the feelings?

Either way, I wasn't quite up to vocalising it just yet.

My mind drifted back to the dream I'd had whilst my head had lolled in Damon's car. Damon.

_ My eyes fluttered open, breaking the kiss, blood coursing through my veins, and I looked up into the dark eyes that were framed by sooty lashes that most girls would have died for, and which certainly had the effect of making the female gender weak at the knees,  
"I love you," I grinned, against his mouth as I pressed another kiss against his lips – lips that I was surprised weren't chapped from the amount of kissing we'd done._

Damon Salvatore grinned back and returned the kisses. "I love you too, Elena Gilbert."

* * *

**Damon Salvatore POV**

I ran my fingers through my jet black hair and hummed along to the radio, but Elena leant over and fiddled with the dial, not seeming to like my taste in music. I rolled my eyes – that girl could be so stubborn, sometimes. We'd bickered over which channel to tune into for all of fifteen minutes, before Elena broke the argument declaring she was hungry. I scanned the desolate plains around us – just road, stretching on and on for miles – and revved the engine, speeding up in an attempt to find somewhere where there was signs of life.

I was hungry too, and I knew that the fun would begin when Elena had had one or two shots – _that _I knew from our previous road trip. She still put on an offended front and insisted I had kidnapped her, whenever I mentioned the trip, but really, I knew that that had been the most fun she'd had in ages – and not to mention, the girl had saved my life!

"I'm hungry," Elena whined, dragging out the words and leaning over to punch my arm. Her eyes were wide and puppy dog like and it reminded me of just about every girl I'd managed to convince to hop into bed with me – wide eyed, begging for more. But even I knew there was a time and a place, and with Elena Gilbert - the girl who I was, as Bella Swan so delightfully puts it in that trashy teen novel _Twilight _"unconditionally and irrevocably in love" with – that time and a place would have to wait. Jesus, I mentally slapped myself. I was going soft, spouting all this romantic crap, and I made a conscious effort not to do anymore of the aforementioned spouting.

I turned to Elena, a completely deadpan expression on my face, and said, "Ok, first of all, seriously? The idea that you could ever actually do me bodily damage with those dainty little hands of yours? Don't make me laugh... secondly don't scratch my jacket. It cost me $1000. I will kill you." I flashed her a dazzling smile, and I grinned as she looked taken aback. Oh, I did like winding people up. "Kidding, by the way," I added, when Elena didn't reply and instead looked wistfully out of the window.

"Do you ever think about the future?" Elena asked. I blinked a few times – more out of shock than my actual need to blink, seeing as I had no such need – and wondered what had brought on the sudden change in conversation. One minute Elena was hungry, next she was all melancholy and pensive, staring out the window like Taylor freaking Swift in some music video. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm a vampire, Elena," I drawled, barely keeping my eyes on the road, instead turning my head and looking straight at her as I answered. "My future, whilst uncertain, drags on for a long and boring eternity, and for me, that's just kind of depressing. Being a vampire's a lonely life, Elena. Watching all your loved ones pass away, until you have no one left... dwelling on the future only seems to make me all the more miserable. But yes, I do think about the future sometimes – where we'll be, what will happen to Stefan and me, what I'll be doing, which hot chick I'll be dating-" Elena rolled her eyes at that one, "but I do my damned best not to think about it. Because it's scary."

I finished my speech and I felt pretty proud of myself – I'd never really been a particularly vocal person, but I'd summarised how I felt pretty clearly there. That was one thing I liked about Elena – whenever I was around her, everything just seemed to make more sense, and things came easier to me. I groaned. I had to stop with all this romantic crap, or when we finally rescued Stefan, he'd think I had turned gay! Elena sat thoughtfully and I asked her, "Why, what brought that on, Miss Gilbert?"

"Hmm," she mused. "A combination of things." I pushed her for more specifics, and after throwing me a "I am not impressed" face, she continued. "I had a dream," she began. "You and me were at some chalet or something, and we were... you know..." I could guess, but being the mean and torturous being that I am, I made her continue. "We were together," she finished. I didn't say anything, so she continued, "And it made me think, you see. What if Stefan never comes back? Then there's the part of me that wonders what the future holds – what am I going to do as my job, how will my exams go... what will happen to Jeremy and Jenna - will I be a vampire, or will I die and leave you alone in eternity or will you turn me ... will I ever tell you how I feel about you, will you leave me like Stefan did," She sighed.

I don't think she quite got the implications of what she said.

_ Will you turn me. Will I ever tell you how I feel about you. _

How did she feel about me?

"Elena," I began, surprised my voice didn't crack will all the emotions going through my head, "What do you mean when you said "Will I ever tell you how I feel about you?""

Her eyes widened. She clearly hadn't meant to say that, and I grinned. "So how do you feel about me, Miss Gilbert?"

A moment silence and I imagined if we'd have been in some pathetic romance film, you'd have heard my heart pounding. Of course, that wasn't possible seeing as I was kind of dead...

Elena looked at me, her eyes searching my face for something, a faint pinkish tinge coming to her cheeks.

I looked at her, searching her face for something, some indication of the answer she was about to give me.

"I love you, Damon," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

My metaphorical heart stopped beating, and my body shot above the clouds, soaring with joy. Damn, I had to stop reading all these wimpy novels, I thought, they're definitely starting to take effect on me.

Elena Gilbert loved me.

And I loved her too.


	5. Chapter Five

**A/N:** I'm going through and editing this Fic because it's full of mistakes that I can't bear to look at - hope you like it - Beth

* * *

**Elena's POV**

I was mentally slapping myself over and over again. What on earth had possessed me to make that admission to Damon? Now he wouldn't shut up about it, I bet, and all I had wanted to do on this weekend break was to forget about Stefan, about love and about Klaus. I guess that admitting my feelings for Damon wasn't really going to help with that plan. Stupid, stupid Elena, I mentally cursed. Why? I was as bad as Katherine – the moment one Salvatore brother is out the picture, I immediately latch onto the other willing brother.

But I wasn't Katherine. I wasn't playing around with both Salvatore brothers – after all I had broken up with Stefan, hadn't I? Mentally shaking myself, I assured myself that I was doing this for all the right reasons, and turned to face Damon, whose expression was one of complete utter shock, with a hint of wonder.

"Damon?" I asked quietly, my voice cracking and letting how nervous and emotional I was shine through.

He turned to face me, his dark eyes, the windows to his soul – that only I seemed to have the ability to see through – and gazed into my eyes. "I love you too, Elena," he murmured.

Damon leaned in closer, and I did the same. Our eyes still locked, he kissed me lightly at first, almost tentatively tip-toeing around a boundary. I kissed him back. This time, more passionately. I didn't want it to stop – it was as if Damon was my own drug that I couldn't wean myself off of. My arms snaked around his neck; I wouldn't let go. I couldn't let go. I needed this man, here, in my arms, more than I had ever needed Stefan, more than I had never needed anybody before in my life. It was as if I was a jigsaw puzzle that had finally just found the missing piece.

This one amazing kiss was perfect; and everything slotted into place. I was complete. The kiss was now more heated than any kiss I'd ever had. With Stefan it had been full of love and care. With Damon, it was full of lust, passion and need... I now understood. I didn't need someone to love me. I needed someone to need me, to want me. Sure, I wanted someone to love me and someone to love in return, but what I needed was a soul mate.

Someone to understand me, who understood me and who needed me. Someone who wouldn't let me go, no matter what life threw at us. I got all of that with just one kiss, our lips melding together, searing with heat, passion and unspoken feelings.

When oxygen finally became a necessity, I unwillingly broke apart from Damon, who's usually pale cheeks were flushed, his eyes held a new found sparkle, and his hair was mussed and in a casual disarray which held the clues to the previous moment's activities. I stared into his eyes, and he stared into mine; and it was as if we were seeing one another for the first time. Neither of us said a word, and it was like we didn't need to.

That kiss had said it all; shown me what I'd been missing all this time I'd been devoting myself unfalteringly to Stefan, despite Damon's many attempts to woo me. But all that didn't matter, because I had found him now. We had found each other. Here I was, without a mother or a father, with no real sense of belonging or place in the world.

But now I had finally done it. I had found my home. And I had every intention of moving in, and staying put...

* * *

**Damon's POV**

I sat in the car, which was motionless on the side of a dusty road, and gazed into her eyes. I had no idea if Elena had any idea of the power she held on me, and I shivered as a warm feeling coursed through my veins. A feeling I hadn't felt in such a long time. Heck, I was Damon Salvatore, and here I was getting all gushy and lovey-dovey just because some chick had admitted her feelings for me.

But you see, the problem was that it wasn't just any chick. Elena Gilbert; the girl who'd been the bane of my existence for the past several months – clouding my judgement and occupying a vast portion of my brain during the hardest of times – and I'd found myself constantly on the lookout for her, wanting to protect her and never let her get hurt. Well now that my do-good brother seemed to be out of the picture for good, she'd finally seen through the haze and noticed me. And I wasn't complaining, if that kiss had been anything to go on. Christ, that kiss had all but actually blown me off my feet, my lips were still tingling, and my heart was soaring at least fifty feet above me – metaphorically, of course.

"Well well well, Miss Gilbert. Took you long enough to realise," I smirked, my bad-boy charm coming to the rescue as per always.

She punched my arm playfully. "Shut up, or you'll make me regret this."

"You could never regret that kiss, Elena darling, and you know that. I'm just too damn good." I shot her a wink, as I shifted the car in gear and we began a leisurely cruise along the desolate road.

"Hmm I think you need a bit of practice," she mused, throwing me a grin as I pretended to act outraged.

"But Elena, of course I'm out of practice! I've been saving myself for you, these past few months. If only you'd have listened to Isobel when she told you I loved you – we could have had a much longer time to practice!" She rolled her eyes at me, at that comment, and I chuckled.

It was strange. Here I was, Damon Salvatore, vampire, bad boy, and entirely selfish, who usually had no hesitation in flicking the switch that turned off my feelings, and yet that was the furthest thing from my mind now.

I wanted to feel. I wanted to have the experience of my heart soaring above the clouds, the feeling of uncompromising happiness. I wanted to feel love, the love that Elena was so willingly emanating, from where she sat in my passenger seat.

"So where are we going?" Elena enquired, snapping me out of my reverie.

"I guess you have no objection to sharing a motel room with me, after this recent turn of events?" I asked, a grin coming to my face, at the prospect of having to spend a night in such close proximity to Elena.

"No problem at all, Mr Salvatore," Elena retorted, sticking her dainty pink tongue out at me, and swishing her long brown hair over her shoulder.

I could have sworn if I wasn't already dead, my heart would have just stopped beating.

* * *

**Elena's POV **

We drove for another hour or so, exchanging anecdotes and generally having smiles plastered across both our faces, at these newfound mutual feelings. I was still ecstatic; the feelings of love coursing through my veins and making me feel like I was going to fly out of this car and above the clouds at any moment. By the lopsided grin on Damon's face, I imagined he felt the same.

After all, how long had he harboured these feelings for me? He had said Isobel had been right when she'd replied "He's in love with you, Elena," when I had asked her how she was so sure Damon would help me. Then there was the time that he'd compelled me to forget the admission of his feelings for me, before giving me back my vervain necklace; a memory that had only resurfaced because Damon had nearly died, and technically, I had too, except Uncle John had sacrificed himself for me, in order to save my life.

A sad smile crossed my face, because although Uncle John had undoubtedly been a crap father, he'd redeemed himself for everything by what he did for me. It's your final hours that count the most, I thought.

Damon broke my train of thought, and I turned to face the handsome face that I'd grown so fond of lately. "Hungry, Elena?" Damon asked, his trademark smirk causing him to curl his lip, in a way that was so attractive, I just wanted to jump on him and slather him in kisses. A pink tinge came to my cheeks, and I silently thanked God that vampires couldn't read minds. I nodded, my stomach gurgling to emphasise my answer. Damon chuckled.

"Good, because we need petrol, anyway. How about we stop at the next town, get a bite to eat – if you pardon the pun – and more fuel?"

"Sounds good to me," I smiled, "But can you lay off the drunken grad students for once?" Damon chuckled – perhaps the tone of jealousy in my voice was more detectable than I had intended. Then I remembered; Damon was a vampire and he had increased senses.

"Is that a tone of jealousy, I detect, Miss Gilbert? There's no need to worry, princess, there's only one person's blood I hope to be drinking any time soon." He winked and I chuckled. As unromantic as it sounded, I couldn't wait to let Damon taste the liquid that coursed through my veins and was my life fuel; sharing blood was the ultimate act of love on a vampiric level. So much more elevated than sex; the act of sharing blood said so much more than two sweaty bodies pressed up against one another.

"Soon," I murmured, and Damon beamed as we pulled into a petrol station.


	6. Chapter Six

**Stefan's POV**

Klaus had deliberately chosen this car because of the tinted windows that enabled him to see out, but for no one else to see in. He had enough enemies, and there was no need to alert them to his presence by driving around in a flashy car. It was a sleek black car that had "style" written all over it, but in a non-attention attracting way.

Stefan was in the back of the car, draining the life out of a single Mum they'd picked up from their last pit-stop. She was a pretty thing, Klaus mused, the kind he'd go for himself, but the crimson seeping from her neck and onto the leather upholstery wasn't making him hungry. In fact, Stefan's sloppy eating habits made him feel somewhat sick, so he turned his attention elsewhere. Scanning the area around him, his eyes fixed on the car that was pulling into the petrol station.

A leather clad man with recognisable style and hair climbed out the driver's side, before opening the passenger side and proffering his arm to the woman who climbed out. Damon Salvatore, thought Klaus, a sly grin splaying across his face, and what an interesting revelation... Elena Gilbert cosying up to the renowned womaniser, in a way that could only be described as love struck. His suspicions were confirmed when Damon leant down, and met Elena's lips with passion, his hand snaking down to cradle her back protectively, as she wound a hand into his rakish black hair. A huge grin spread across of his face, as the cogs in his mind whirred, formulating a plan. He was so glad he'd made sure Stefan was distracted, because if Stefan had seen the embrace before him, he'd screw everything up.

Careful not to rouse Stefan's attention to the situation, Klaus pulled onto the road and drove down a few streets, taking sharp turns, following his heightened sense of smell, until he found a relatively smart looking diner. Here he'd pick up a few more 'toys' as he liked to call them, for Stefan, and maybe a light snack for himself. Taking his keys out of the ignition, he turned to Stefan, whose face was still buried in the neck of the brunette, blood covering his face like an infant after eating Spaghetti Bolognese.

"Stefan. Out. Now." Whenever Klaus spoke to Stefan, he used as few words as possible; much like an owner talking to a dog, and Stefan rarely spoke in return. Silence is golden, and "Don't speak unless you're spoken too" were phrases that Klaus agreed with and he made sure to enforce them with Stefan.

After Stefan had cleaned his face of the incriminating evidence, the two men entered the diner. As they did so, Stefan caught sight of his reflection in a mirror. Whilst before he may have chuckled at the myth that vampires have no reflection, now he was taken aback at the image he saw in front of him. What he saw shocked him; his eyes had taken on a cold, hard edge. The glint of a killer, he thought. For the rest of the time in the diner, picking at a burger, Stefan sad subdued, the ketchup on his plate painting his vision crimson with the sight of all the blood he'd shed in these last few weeks. He shuddered, hating himself for the monster he'd become, but at the same time, knowing that it was all his doing. After all, he'd opted for this lifestyle in order to save his brother, Damon.

* * *

His thoughts were interrupted as they left the diner, after Klaus had decided that there were no women to prey on, because across the street, heading into the entrance of one of the few motels in town, was the black haired leather-clad vampire who he could recognise from a mile away. And his hand was clasped with another distinctive figure; her brown hair down and draped over her shoulders, wearing a figure hugging college sweatshirt and Levis. Elena Gilbert. And his brother, Damon. His heart thumped, before he realised that the image he was seeing before him wasn't just a friendly scene, as Elena leant up on her tiptoes to kiss Damon. He turned his full attention to her, and they stood in the doorway, embracing.

Time stood still.

Elena Gilbert, the love of his life, it appeared, had forgotten him.

And not only had Stefan appeared to escape her mind, but she'd occupied herself in his absence with the older, sarcastic and womanising, Damon Salvatore.

And Damon, it seemed, has pushed all thoughts of loyalty to his brother out of his mind, as he shrouded Elena in what could only be described as love.

Pure love.

His brother, and his girlfriend, Elena, had fallen in love.

Where did that leave Stefan?

Stefan felt his eyes prickling, and his canines lengthen, as anger coursed through his veins, burning his skin, making him feel like he was on fire.

Klaus followed Stefan's line of sight, and cursed silently. "Later," he ordered, his pupils shrinking and then expanding, and he compelled Stefan to calm down and get in the car. With no choice but to oblige, Stefan shrank into the back seat, shaking with anger. Klaus, preoccupied with hunger, forget to notice the warning signs of Stefan hatching a plan, as they drove away, leaving Elena and Damon oblivious and in love, in their wake.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Damon's POV**

This feeling was utterly new to me, and it was the first time that I didn't know what was next for me, Damon Salvatore, master of the universe.

Love is tricky, I mused, and when you fall in it, you fall in it hard. Blind. Clueless; you have no idea where it'll take you. But for once in my life I decided I like surprises and just went wherever these feelings took me. My spirits lifted, I began to loosen up and the real Damon came out of his shell. Yes, I was still a cynical and sarcastic vampire, but the difference was that I had a purpose. Elena.

I looked down at the girl who my arm was around, and she smiled up at me, leaning up to place a kiss on my lips. Her lips were soft and fragile and they tasted of vanilla. I like vanilla, I thought, it's my new favourite flavour.

Elena Gilbert tastes of summer and good things to come, with a twist of sophistication and the unknown. I smiled, jeez, I think to myself. I'm back in poetic and soppy mode, but I'm so in love I can't even be bothered to care. As Elena's lips caress mine, the hairs on the nape of my neck stand up, and I can't help but feel that someone is watching us, from where we stand in the motel doorway. I brush all negative thoughts from my mind, and let the tide of love wash over me, and drag me far out of my depth.

The receptionist is a male of about twenty or so, and I can't help but notice he's giving Elena the eye. I stare him down, and he gets the message, and I smirk. I'm not normally the jealous type, I think to myself, but I guess I am when it comes to Elena.

"We'll take the best room you have, please," I say, more demanding than asking, as I influence the man before the desk. He sways on the spot, appearing drunk and confused for a moment, before he flashes a toothy smile.

"Of course, Mr and Mrs -?" I grin, at how he presumes Elena and myself are married, and she notices too, as she gives my hand a squeeze.

"Salvatore," I grin. "Mr and Mrs Salvatore."

We're shown to the penthouse suite by the overbearing receptionist, and after declining his numerous inquisitions about beverages, and food, Elena and I are finally alone.

"Sooooo," I begin, a teasing edge to my voice, "That's one big looking bed,"

"I wonder what we'll find to do in this room," Elena continues with the hinting, a smile playing at her perfect face.

"I know! I mean, look, there's no TV or _anything!_" I pretend to act outraged at this fact, and Elena's smile grows even wider.

"Well I did say that earlier you need to practise your kissing ability..." Elena trailed off, a spark in her eyes.

I close the distance in less than a second.

My lips crash down on hers, searing with heat and passion and unspoken words.

My hand winds its way down to her waist, cradling her carefully, like she's a breakable porcelain doll. Because she's precious; she's _my _porcelain doll.

I feel her hand move up to my head, winding and securing her fingers in my hair, at every millimetre of skin that her fingers touch, I feel the heat sear through me.

I'm on fire.

Time stands still, as we stand enveloped in our embrace.

Elena stops, meeting my eyes, only millimetres from hers. My breath; hard and heavy; wafts across her cheeks. There was something about her. Something that made my pulse jump and my blood race. The way her eyes pinned me to the spot when she caught me looking at her. The way her voice made me shiver in a way it shouldn't. The way she was not Katherine. Elena had been the forbidden fruit for so long now; because she'd been Stefan's girlfriend, and neither of us wanted a repeat of what happened with Katherine. I felt my body reacting in ways that were so very bad in reference to Elena, and obviously she could tell too, because her intense stare turned into a lazy, self-satisfied grin and she sighed a satisfied sigh as we sank into the folds of the bed sheets.

I could sense Elena hesitating; feeling as if she was on the edge of the precipice, one word, one movement, would send her over. She looked up into my face, with the cocky smile and guarded eyes, and within that moment, I sensed her make her choice.

My lips were on hers in seconds, and the intensity of how I kissed her was so extreme, I think it shocked the both of us, and I found us both gasping for air like fish deprived of water. A growl escaped my throat, and embarrassed, I grinned bashfully as Elena giggled beneath me. Every time our bodies made contact, it felt like we were sparked with live wired, and I found myself barely able to control my actions. Elena rolled over so that she straddled me, and leaning down she peppered me with kisses.

"Pushy," I grinned, "I like it." Followed with a wink, I was surprised at how I was even able to get the words out.

"Just, for once," she breathed between kisses, "just shut up and-"

"And what?" I asked, even though I already knew. I'd known back when I saw the resolute glint in her eyes moments before.

"Damon," she began, her voice wavering, but not with nerves, I thought to myself. "I want you to drink my blood."

At the mention of the word, she was under me before she could breathe, and my hands held her gingerly. As my canines extended, and the veins beneath my eyes became prominent, I looked into her eyes, and was met with not fear, but love.

Pure love.

As my teeth probed her neck, making the incision, she tensed slightly, before succumbing to the feeling of ecstasy which enveloped both of us in a massive wave.

We were drowning in a sea of crimson, but rather than clogging our lungs with fear, we both felt alive, our consciences twisting and interlacing with one another as we became one, love enshrouding us in its red robe.

* * *

**Elena's POV**

I lay on the overly soft double bed that had catered all too well for mine and Damon's needs, a few hours previously. We lay in a comfortable embrace with our fingers interlaced and my head resting on his chest.

I felt different to how I usually felt after being intimate with Stefan. Happier, ecstatic, and I knew that I'd been right with Damon. He was my knight in shining armour; my man on a black and noble steed who would plunge through the darkness to save me, in my hour of need. I thought back to when his teeth had probed my throat and when I'd succumbed to the feeling of pure bliss and happiness.

Damon was _the one._ The elusive _one_ that every girl reads about in teen novels; watches on the big screen, and dreams about in the middle of her chemistry mid-term.

I'd found the one person that I knew would be there for me, no matter what, the one person who I wouldn't mind spending the rest of eternity with.

Eternity.

Now that's a long time, I mused.

But whilst I'd never been certain with Stefan, I knew what I wanted with Damon.

I wanted to be a vampire. Well, I mean who wants to be dapper and eternally gorgeous, and dating an 87 year old? There's no way Damon would get away with being with me when I was old and wrinkly and smelt of soap.

That left one option.

Joining Damon in eternal life.

Except just not yet. I still had a life to live, and I intended to do just that, whilst my looks still allowed me to. But there's no harm in taking precautions, I thought to myself, and fortunately, something that Damon agreed to, when I voiced my thoughts out loud.

So it was agreed. Every day, I'd drink a little of Damon's blood, and that way, if I ever died, Damon wouldn't lose me forever, and I'd become a vampire. Simple. It made sense; after all, Damon had been drinking my blood.

I was surprised at how the idea of drinking the metal tasting liquid didn't repulse me, as much as it had when I was with Stefan. I'd turned my nose up at Stefan, when he'd proffered me his wrist after he'd drunk my blood. The only time Stefan's blood had mixed with mine as it pulsed through my body, had been when it was absolutely necessary – when I was on death's doorstep.

So when Damon made a neat incision on his right wrist, and held it out to me, I licked it tentatively. Hmm, I thought, it didn't taste as bad as I remembered. After a few more licks, satisfied that I had enough in my system to evade death if it tried to take me, any time soon, I sank back into the pillows below me, and Damon's arms, where we lay talking about nonsense and revelling in the intimate gesture we'd just shared.

An owl hooted from outside the window, and the wind rattled the badly fitted blinds, and Damon enveloped me with muscular arms, protecting me and shielding me from the cold. After a few moments spent in this embrace, I rolled over and picked up a cushion. Using the element of surprise, I deftly smacked Damon on the side of the head with it. He let out a surprised "Ooft" before he jumped up, and gathered an armful of pillows from the bed.

One by one, he hurled his missiles at me, whilst I crouched under the bed, in hysterics.

"Did you just try to attack me, Miss Gilbert?" His tone was flirtatious, but there was an element of mock surprise. "I thought I'd made it _very_ clear that a human is no match for a vampire?"

"Oh we'll see about that," I chuckled, as I jumped out of my hiding place, tackling Damon onto the bed, and lay atop him. I leant down and placed a few kisses on his lips, before taking one of the cushions from the bed and smacking him over the head with it.

He laughed, before pushing me aside, easily and straddling me. "You really shouldn't have done that, Elena," he teased, as he leant down and his lips met mine.


	8. Chapter Eight

** Stefan's POV**

Stefan stood outside the motel, slouched against the sooty brick wall, his ears trying to tune in to one particular room. He wore a grubby grey hoodie, that he'd stolen from some unsuspecting teenager, a few blocks earlier, in an attempt to blend in and keep the attention away from his face; which showed his vampiric traits.

His eyes were cold, hard and bloodshot; the after effects of all the liquor he'd been drinking – after all, he'd had to work himself up until he was brave, or stupid enough, to try and kill his brother – and the bitter but distinctive intention to kill.

Stefan was no longer the person he'd been a few weeks previously. Then, he'd been a man with unfortunate circumstances, who, due to being "unlucky in love" as the expression goes, had found himself with eternal life and a constant desire for blood.

Now, he'd succumbed to the monster that Nature had made him, and you could no longer call him a person. He was a monster; a true horror; an aberration.

And this monster was on a mission. A mission to kill.

When his vampire senses tuned into the sound of Damon and Elena frolicking about in the penthouse suite, it was all he could do not to rip the heads off the unsuspecting passerby, wearing a trilby, who had just sauntered past him.

He could be over by them, rip their head off, and drain them in a matter of seconds.

But he was waiting.

The only blood that would be spilt tonight would be that of Damon.

He winced as he heard Elena laugh, and Damon let out a seductive growl.

He clenched his fists as he heard the rip of a pillow case, and the flurry of feathers that scattered the room.

He bit his tongue as he heard the distinctive sound of lips puckering and then breaking apart.

But he finally lost it, when his ears caught the sound of Elena whispering into his brother's dainty and perfect ears, those three words.

Those three words that every girl hopes to hear, and every guy waits to be able to say when he means it.

Those three words that can make, or break a relationship.

"I love you, Damon," Elena said, with a happy sigh.

It was then that Stefan lost it, and in a matter of seconds, he ripped the door to the penthouse suite off, and snarling and growling like a savage wild beast, he unleashed his wrath on his brother.

In a blur of anger and frustration, Stefan attacks.

Elena screams, and Stefan doesn't even here, he is blind with his desire to drive a stake through the heart of his brother, who has betrayed him and stolen his girl.

Damon cries out, as Stefan dislocates his shoulder, a cry filled with pain and sadness and anger.

The realisation that this is a fight to the death, that dawns on Damon's face.

The confusion in his brother's eyes.

The screams from Elena, begging, pleading for him to stop.

But he can't stop until he kills Damon. He is blind with rage, and deaf with bloodlust. He is a killer. A savage.

Nothing will stop him.

Nothing will get in his way.

Elena, tears streaking down her face, ignores Damon's cries of protest as she advances.

Stefan throws Elena aside as if she is nothing more than a rag doll.

He doesn't stop, give her a second glance, until he notices that Damon's attention is no longer focused into fighting him.

He follows Damon's gaze, where he sees Elena slumped on the floor in a crumpled heap, blood trickling from a gash in her skull.

Time freezes.

Neither brother moves.

Both of them can't hear the flurry of Elena's heartbeat anymore, and it is this realisation that snaps Stefan out of it.

He sinks to his knees.

Crying.

Pleading.

No. She's not dead. She can't be. He looks pleadingly at his brother, trying to make him do something, anything. She can't be dead, no, screams Stefan. I can't have killed her.

But he has. And Damon won't look him in the eyes, instead, the two brothers kneel over the body, like an angel and the Devil, their once obvious roles reversed.

Elena is dead, Stefan cries. I killed her, he thinks.

He has no purpose anymore.

His whole existence has been shattered with a fatal blow, a blow that he delivered purely by accident, so caught up in his rage to kill Damon.

He might as well be dead, he thinks.

His voice hoarse and pleading, he turns to face his older brother, who looks at him with pure hatred, yet remains so composed in a time of such devastation.

"Kill me, brother," Stefan pleads.

Damon rises slowly, shaking with anger, and is only too happy to oblige, as he takes the wooden stake out of Stefan's open palm, and drives it through his brother's heart.

There is a thud, as Stefan's body falls to the carpeted motel room floor.

There is a clatter as Damon drops the stake he is holding, when the realisation that he has just killed his brother hits him.

There is a sob as Damon realises that the only family he has left is gone.

There is a cry of desperation as Damon realises that he is all alone.

There is blackness, as Damon's whole world falls apart.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Klaus' POV**

The door to the flat swings open, and Klaus steps in, two blonde twins in their early twenties in tow, giggling and holding hands as they make their way into the badly lit room. They're oblivious to the anger that crosses Klaus' face when he realises Stefan has gone out without asking. They're oblivious to the fury in Klaus' eyes when he realises where Stefan has most likely gone. They're oblivious to the crack of bones, and they're oblivious to the fact that they're dead.

Klaus doesn't act rashly when he sees Stefan has left. He knows that Stefan is probably dead; because even though he's been drinking human blood and murdering for weeks now, Damon is older, _and_ he's probably been drinking Elena's blood. The blood of a lover, Klaus muses, will have made Damon a _lot_ stronger than Stefan.

At this moment in time, Klaus thinks, there is probably a dead Stefan lying on the floor of that shabby motel they'd seen Damon and Elena enter earlier. Curiosity got the better of him, and Klaus found himself skulking outside the window of the penthouse suite – as he knew Damon would've settled for nothing less – in the form of a white owl. His yellow eyes – the eyes of a wolf, not an owl – searched through the dark and dingy room until they rested, sure enough, on Stefan's lifeless, inanimate body, wooden stake protruding from his chest, the grey tinge that had overcome his skin.

As his eyes searched, they found another body. Elena's. If his eyes could have widened in surprise, they would have, because the trickle of crimson from her temple and still chest showed that she was dead. In that case, where was Damon, wondered Klaus? More searching revealed him sat, knees tucked under his chin, gazing forlornly into space, tears silently cascading down his cheek, as he held Elena's cold hand in his, in desperation, pleading for her to come back to him.

A cold, harsh smile crossed Klaus' face. Now that Stefan is dead, and Elena too, Damon Salvatore would no longer bother him. He was sure of it.

So with that, Klaus spread out his feathered white wings, and with a hoot and a flap of his wings, he flew off into the horizon. On the move. Again. As he had been doing for all eternity; constantly moving, and not looking back.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Elena's POV**

I gasp. Air fills my lungs and it feels wonderful. Like a baby, opening its eyes for the first time, I can see everything – the edge of the chest of drawers is so much sharper and pronounced. I look outside the window, wincing as I turn my head. My neck is stiff. But the view from the window takes my breath away. I can see the stars, each and everyone, and it feels like if I reached out, I could touch each and every one of them. A huge grin crosses my face. This is awesome!

As I moved, my throat burned, and I left out a cry. Ignoring the pain that coursed through my body, I tried to focus on Damon as my head swam.

"I know you're in a lot of pain, right now," Damon said, from where he sat beside me, and I squeezed his hand. He winced, and I heard a few bones crack.

"Oops. I forgot about vampire strength, sorry," Damon shrugged.

"It's fine. I was going to crack my knuckles anyway." I grinned, amazed at how he could crack a joke at a time like this. A time when his brother, Stefan lay dead in the corner.

But I could tell that he didn't want to talk about it, so I didn't. Instead, I concentrated on ignoring the hunger that was clawing at my gut.

Damon smiled sympathetically at me, and said, "The best way to get rid of the pain is if we get someone for you to feed on ASAP. But that's a descision that should be yours, and yours alone. This isn't a choice that should be made lightly – it's not like deciding to have fish and chips or a roast for tea – this is an eternity of bloodlust we're talking about."

I realised that Damon was being so careful and sensitive about this; and offering me the choice, because he'd never had the choice. Stefan, being selfish, had forced him to turn.

I realised the implications of what Damon was saying. But I was certain. I wanted to be with him forever.

Nodding, Damon smiled. "I'm going to go and get you someone to eat."

Smiling, and ignoring the hunger that was now burning and clawing inside of me like some kind of trapped animal, I nodded.

A few minutes later, Damon was back, with the Motel receptionist in tow. I closed the gap between us in seconds, and sunk my teeth into his flesh, taking great big gulps of the crimson liquid that burst freely from the man's veins. When I was full, I allowed the body to slump on the floor.

There was a few moments silence, as Damon allowed me to let thing sink in. I was a vampire. And I was able to spend all of eternity with the man, or vampire, who I was so deeply and irrevocably in love with.


End file.
